Scouting
by RenkonNairu
Summary: Superman draws the short straw and has to serve as 'den mother' for the Team for a week. How will the kids cope with the Boy Scout? And will the Superman be able to survive the kids? -written for forum challenge-
1. Den Mother

Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

(A/N: This is for the 'Den Mother' challenge by Orangevbnin in the Challenge and Requests forum. More details can be found here: http:/ forum. fanfiction. net/topic/ 86355/57004824/ 1/#57029697 …)

Scouting: Den Mother

"Okay, everyone, its that time again! Lets draw straws."

A loud choir of groans and grumbles rose-up to fill the Watchtower's main bridge, it reverberated off the walls and high cathedral windows, continuing to echo long after the original speakers had quieted down. The Justice League of America, a fraternity of the noble and virtuous heroes on the planet Earth all lined up to draw straws for the most physically and mentally taxing mission any single hero could perform… Acting as 'Den Mother' to the Young Justice team!

"And no X-ray vision! That's cheating." A pointed look at the Superman. "And so is using your magic." A sideways glance at Zatara. "Trying to read my mind to figure out which straw to choose." His eyes locked with J'onn's for the briefest of moments. "Or using super-speed to try each straw without my notice." The Bat-glare he fixed on flash could have curdled milk had the speedster been paying attention and not preoccupied stuffing his face.

One by one, Earth's greatest heroes pulled a straw from the Batman's black-gloved hand; their eyes squeezed shut in apprehension. When all straws had been chosen and the Dark Knight's hand was empty they all slowly and with great hesitation opened their hands and peeked at the lot they'd drawn. As per usual, the Watchtower was filled with the sound of one great gusty sigh, as all members of the League breathed out their relief… All but one.

The air of relief that had begun settling over the bridge was shattered by a loud venomous swear as the one whom had drawn the short straw registered his lot. Very loud, angry swears, completely incomprehensible swears, alien swears –_kryptonian_ swears!

All eyes on the Watchtower turned to stare at the Superman.

"Anyone wanna trade?"

…

"I'm stirring up trouble with the Level 3 Doctor Dumm!" Robin pulled a monster card from his hand and threw it down on the table.

"Crap! This is for the winning level!" Wally shouted more loudly than was necessary. They couldn't let Robin win! He pulled a card from his hand. "Ha! You Old Mentor Gone Mad! Plus ten to level of monster. That's brings it up to effective level thirteen."

"T'ch, I'm still beating it." The boy scoffed.

"I believe I can use this card to send in another monster." Kaldur hesitantly set down a Wondering Monster card along with the Level 12 Professor Polar, bringing the force Robin was fighting to an effective level of twenty-five.

"Crap!" Exclaimed Boy Wonder. He looked down at the cards he had in play. "I use my power of Bond by Talking About Sports to force you to help me!" He thrust a finger at Wally and discarded three cards from his hand to use the power.

"What? But I don't-"

"The card says you have to!"

The rest of the Team turned their attention to their own hands to try and find a way to prevent Robin from reaching level ten and winning the game.

"Hey…" Conner ventured, unsure. "Does KF still have to help him if he louses his power?"

"I guess not." Robin admitted with a shrug. "But powers can't be stolen, you need a curse or a trap to get rid of them."

"Can I play this?" Conner pulled a card out of his deck and placed it in front of the Boy Wonder. Trap! Creeptonite; Lose a Power.

It was then that the Cave's computer announced, "**Recognize: Batman 02, Recognize: Superman 01**"

"Supey, how could you _of all people_ use Creeptonite on me!" Whined the Wonder Boy.

"_What!"_

Six heads turned to see the pair of mentors (well, the mentor and other Leaguer) standing in the doorway that separated the zetta-hanger from the common area. Batman looked as though he were trying to hold back a grin, it wouldn't do for the ever-stoic Dark Knight to crack a smile. The Superman, however, twitched with mingled confusion and concern. He focused a very unBoy Scout like glare at the Superboy.

"It's a game." Artemis said by way of explanation.

"You're playing a game that has kryptonite!" Horror, abject, undiluted horror.

"No, 'Creeptonite'." M'gann levitated the card over to the Man of Steel to read.

"That's not how you spell 'kryptonite'."

Five faces fell into five palms as the Team minus the Superboy groaned with exasperation. The Superboy, however, blinked in disbelieving awe that the Superman, the Man of Steel, the Man of Tomorrow, the Last Son of Krypton had said something so… _goofy_. It was a rather disorienting, and just a tad scary.

"Superman will be this week's Den Mother." The Batman announced, commanding everyone's attention.

…

It was one of those lazy-kind of Saturdays. Ya know, the ones that just seem to crawl by at a snail's pace with nothing fun to do or interesting going on.

Conner lounged on the couch in front of the TV, staring blankly at the static on the screen. M'gann was stretched out next to him, he head in his lap. She flipped through the pages of a Pratchett novel without reading a word or it. Robin was doing stretches off in a corner where no one would trip over him. Wally was camped out in the kitchen, inhaling everything in the pantry and refrigerator. Artemis had her arrows laid out on the living room coffee table but wasn't doing any sort of work on them. Kaldur sat in a chair in what looked like the posture of meditation, of course, he could just as easily been asleep.

This was how Clark found the kids when he reentered the living area after bidding good-bye to Batman by the zetta-tubes.

"Why are you all laying about in here?" Asked the country-raised American Alien. "You're missing the best part of the day!"

The kids all groaned.

"Gawd! You sound like my mother." Kid Flash said through a mouthful of Snickers bar. He swallowed before continuing. "I spend almost all my time outside either at school or catching bad-guys with my uncle. I think I'm entitled to spend some time indoors every now and again."

There was a round of nods all agreeing with the young speedster to some degree or another.

Wally then came around to join M'gann and Conner on the couch, the martian girl sitting up to make room for him. "Hey, Supey, can we have the TV? I wanna see if the new Torchwood episodes are on Netflix yet."

The Superboy gave a shrug and passed the remotes to the Kid Flash.

"So, you're just gonna sit here and watch TV all day?" Clark was affronted. If he had ever tried to do that when he was their age Ma would have dragged him out by the ear and found something useful for him to do.

"Pretty much." Robin said as he stretched both feet strait out in front of him and reached out to touch his toes. "We mostly just hang-out until Bats comes by with a mission."

"But there's so much stuff to do outside!" The Superman insisted. "Don't you want to go down to the beach? Or hike around some of the trails on the mountain, or-"

"Oh my gosh, its true. You _are_ a boy scout!" Artemis scoffed.

"We are not stopping you from doing any of those things, if that is what you wish to do, Superman." Aqualad looked up from his meditative posture. "It is not necessary for you to hover over us at all times. Our previous den mothers kept a moderate amount to themselves."

…

Clark turned the heat down on his gravy to a low simmer, double checked the chicken to make sure it was done and covered the mashed potatoes and collared greens to keep them hot.

"Okay, who's setting the table?" He called from the kitchen.

"What?" Six pairs of eyes blinked at him from the living room.

"Dinner's ready." He said by way of explanation.

"You _cooked_ for us!" Wally exclaimed in disbelief.

They all exchanged looks. None of their other den mothers had ever cooked for them, trusting them to feed themselves when they got hungry and not schedule meal times and assigning place settings.

"Well, yeah." The Superman said in much the same way someone would confirm that water is wet.

Again, the Team exchanged a look. This was weird. He was acting more like a baby-sitter rather than an adult whom was just supposed to be 'on-call' in the event that a senior Leaguer, or just someone over the age of eighteen, was needed.

A pregnant silence filled the Cave as the Team stared at the Superman and the Superman stood with his hands on his hips (mimicking a pose Ma Kent had employed on more than one occasion when dealing with both him and his friends) waiting for one of them to get up and start setting the table. If none of them volunteered in the next two minuets he'd just have to assign the task to someone.

"I…" It was Conner who broke the awkward silence. "I wanna try Superman's cooking."

Clark suppressed the urge to cringe. Superboy was not the volunteer he would have chosen. "Alright, then you can be the one to set the table."

…

The Team knew that their rooms were equipped with intercoms, but they had never thought much about them until first morning that Superman spent with them as their den mother. The ear-splitting and obnoxiously offensive sound of a triangle rent the air and shocked the six members of the Young Justice Team out of their pleasant dreams.

"Ugh… did he bring that here from Kansas…?" Robin groaned into his pillow, refusing to get up. Clark should know that he, like his mentor, was a 'creature of the night'.

While in Artemis' room, the thunderous clanging of the triangle caused her to tumble out of bed in a disoriented stupor. When she did come to her sense, the fem fatal archer glared up at the Cave's intercom and muttered, "Why does he hate us?"

Wally groaned and burrowed under his blankets, covering his ears with his pillow. He suddenly felt like he was back at summer camp. Next thing they knew, Superman was going to be making them weave baskets and make swaps. Damn, dorky Boy Scout!

Kaldur had jumped out of bed at the sound and quickly made his bed, showered and changed and stood at attention at the foot of his bed for a moment before he remembered that he was in the Young Justice Cave not a barracks of the Atlantian military. There was no petty officer coming to inspect his quarters and he could relax.

Conenr had already been awake for several hours prior to Superman's ear-piercing wake-up call. However, M'gann whom had still been sleeping with her head pillowed on his shoulder jerked awake suddenly, smacking the Superboy in the face as she did so.

"Wha's goin' on?" She slurred sleepily.

As if to answer her question, the clamoring clanging of the triangle stopped and was replaced instead with the voice of the Man of Steel. "Rise and shine!" He called over the intercom with a chipper energy that should be outlawed so early in the morning. "Breakfast is waiting. Anyone who's not dressed and ready to start the day by the time I come around to inspect your rooms gets first shift of KP duty."

Robin snarled. Bruce would hear about this, he could keep the Superman in check.

Artemis' intercom died with a green-fletched arrow imbedded through its speaker.

Wally was up and dressed; his bed made and room passably clear (not 'clean', just 'clear') before the Superman had even switched off the mic.

Kaldur tied with the speedster as the first two sitting at the island for breakfast.

"What's KP duty?" M'gann asked. Thanks to his Cadmus programming, Conner usually had the answers to everything.

"I have no idea." The Superboy confessed. "But, M'gann, remember that campfire we all had way back when, when I said I had been thinking of killing Superman?"

"Yeah…?"

"I'm revisiting those thoughts now."

The martian girl pursed her lips into a single thin line before saying, "I'll be your alliby."

…


	2. Rise and Shine

Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

Signals

Chapter Two: Rise and Shine

Kaldur and Wally were pleasantly surprised to find sausage and eggs ready for them when they entered the common area. They snagged a pair of stools at the island and began piling food on their plates while Superman flipped pancakes.

"You can flip pancakes in the air!" The Kid Flash stared in awe as the League's senior Boy Scout tossed one fluffy golden-brown cake in the air and effortlessly caught it again in the pan without the slightest bit of splatter or mess.

"I can make 'em look like things too." Smiled the Superman and he slid a pancake shaped vaguely like the Flash symbol onto the young speedster's plate. Then, turning to Kaldur he said, "Orin's crest is a bit more difficult to do. I think this looks more like an upside-down Ultraman."

He slid a misshapen cake that might have been an A or an upside-down U onto Kaldur's plate.

"It was not necessary for you to do this for us." The over-polite atlantian said by way of thanks.

Wally, meanwhile, had taken out his phone, taken a picture of his Flash-pancake and was texting his uncle. 'OMG Flash n a pan!'

"Hey, I gotta make sure you kids eat right." The red and blue hero gave a shrug. "Anyway, I gotta go drag the rest of those lazy bones outta bed."

Superman exited the common area.

The text KF got back from the Flash read. 'Wally, its 6am on Sun. For the luv of CHEESE! lemme sleep! What'r u even doing up so early?'

Clark knocked on Robin's door first. "Okay, time to get up!" He called through the door. "You've got until the count of three before I'm coming in to drag you out by the ankles. One… two…"

Dick's door slid-open and he glared up at the Superman. "You are so _not_ asterous right now."

Clark didn't know what that meant, so he gave a shrug and said, "Breakfast is ready in the kitchen. Be sure to get some of it before Barry's nephew inhales it all."

The Superman continued on to Artemis' room. The fem fatal archer's slid upon with an irritable '_swish-THUNK'_ and the girl stepped out, glaring as Robin had. She looked up at Clark with contempt but said nothing, only made her way to the kitchen after Robin.

His clone's room was next. Clark hesitated a moment before knocking on this door, speaking with the boy was not something he was in a hurry to do. But he was the acting den mother, the only supervising adult on the base and he couldn't just let the kids sleep the day away, Young Justice and superhero'ing aside, Ma had taught him better than that.

Clark knocked on the Superboy's door and gave his warning of a count to three. There was no response. So, he counted to three. The boy did not appear before him. So, he punched in the override code for the door lock and slid open the door to find the boy's room complexly void. Aparently, he was missing one Superboy. Crap. First morning as den mother and he'd already lost one of the kids. Some great responsible adult he was.

He would enlist the other kids in the search for him. As his teammates they would know his usual hiding places, right? The Superman knocked on Miss Martian's door.

"M'gann, breakfast is ready. Time to get up!"

There was the muffled sound of a body trying to disentangle itself from the bed sheets and the thump of something heavy (much heavier than the martian girl) hitting the floor. This sound was punctuated with the muttered remark of, "Real smooth. Is the floor okay?"

Was there someone in her room with her? Clark raised an eyebrow. "I'm coming in." He warned. "Cover-up what you don't want to be seen."

He punched in the override code for her door lock and the door slid aside to reveal the martian girl sitting on the bed, already fully clothed (thanks to her shape-shifting ability) and his clone struggling to quickly pull his pants over a pair of blue, red and yellow Superman-boxers.

"Good morning, Superman." M'gann said with exaggerated cheerfulness, as if the hero hadn't just walked in and found a half-naked man in her room.

"What the hell is this?" Clark didn't usually curse. Growing up back on the farm, if he ever said the word 'hell' in any context besides discussing Saint Paul he got his mouth washed out with soap. So, it was a true testament to just how socked he was that the word had escaped his lips completely unnoticed and unchecked.

"Could you be more specific in the question?" His clone requested and zipped up the fly of his cargo-pants. He didn't seem the least bit ashamed or even embarrassed to have been discovered in a girl's room in naught but his underclothes.

Clark grabbed the boy by the ear and dragged him from the room.

"Ow!" Conner exclaimed. More out of surprise than pain, he wasn't used to being hurt. But then, he reflected, if anyone in the League was capable of causing pain in spite of his invulnerability, it would be the man he had been cloned from.

He pulled the Superboy down the corridor and around a corner before finally letting go of him. "What in the name of Rao's flaming pits do you think you're doing, boy!"

"Well I _was_ getting dressed." Conner crossed his arms over his chest. "Now I'm standing here getting yelled at by you."

"I meant with my friend's niece." Growled out the Superman.

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

Truth be told, Clark didn't know the boy very well (or at all) and so could not justly say that he 'did not like him'. But he was very quickly loosing patience with the young genomorph. "Listen you little-" He stopped himself before the word 'punk' could escape his lips, "I don't know what your other den mothers have let you get away with but I'll have none of it on my watch! Whatever's going on between you and M'gann it stops now!"

"You can't tell me what to do!" Conner snarled with a touch more vehement passion than Clark had expected. "You're not my father!"

Superman skipped one… two… three beats before replying. "No, I'm not. But while I'm here I'm responsible for you and everyone on the Team. So, while I'm here you will not be going into girls rooms and taking off your clothes, you will not be sneaking off to secluded parts of the Cave to play 'pinch & tickle', and you most definitely will not be having any underage sex!"

Superboy raised an eyebrow. "'Underage'?"

"You and M'gann are both minors." Clark began to explain and a wonderful idea occurred to him. "Its illegal for you and her to have sex at your age. You two would be breaking the law if you did, and you don't want to break the law, do you? We can't keep criminals on the Young Justice Team."

Maybe that last line was a little mean, but if it got the job done…

"I… didn't know…" The boy's hostility seemed to deflate.

Clark patted him on the shoulder. "I'll let it slide this time since you didn't know. Now, how's about you go put a shirt on and we'll start the day!"

…

Clark rejoined the rest of the kids in the kitchen to find that the pancakes had all been devoured and so he set about cooking more. Breakfast was the most important meal of the day, after all, and fledgling heroes needed to eat right. Conner entered just as Clark was pouring the last of the batter he'd made into the pan. The boy fixed the Man of Steel with an angry glare before taking a plate and piling food onto it.

"Now that you're all here," the Superman said with a smile, "let's go over the day's schedule."

"What?" Six pairs of eyes blinked at him.

"Well, I'm not going to let you all just laze about in front of the idiot box." He said by way of explanation. "You're all gonna spend some time outside, get some fresh air and sunlight."

"Sunlight…" Robin hissed. "_I am the night_!"

"Aw, that was so _cute_, Rob." Clark reached over the island to pat the boy on the head. "I wish I had a camera, Bats would have loved to see that."

Dick glared at the Boy Scout and immediately began planning his murder. Separate from the rest of the group and disappear… zetta to Gotham… enter Batcave… borrow Bruce's kryptonite ring from the Hero Cabinet… return to Mt. Justice… eliminate target!

"Anyway," Superman continued, "after breakfast we're going on a hike. Be sure to wear good shoes and bring lots of water. After that we'll go down to the coast and do a bit of tide pooling. Lunch is at noon. After lunch I'm gonna teach you knot tying and candle making, or if you prefer we can do lanyards and I'll show you how to make duct tape wallets. Then you'll have two hours free time to practice your crafts. Dinner's at six. Then we'll have taps and those of you who don't live here can go home and those who do live here will go to bed."

Six pairs of eyes stared back at him as if he were insane.

"Alright, you all know what we're doing." He said. "Hop to it! Hiking boots and water bottles. Superboy has KP duty. Go!"

…

/_'Conner's ready to kill him and Robin says he's got a plan._'/ M'gann informed the rest of the Team via her telepathy as they trudged in a single-file line through the woods that covered the southern face of Mt. Justice.

/_'Count me in!_'/ Came Artemis' irritable reply. /_'If I wanted to sing Kumbayah and wake-up at shit-faced o'clock I would've stayed in Girl Scouts._'/

/_'You were in Girl Scouts!_'/ Wally's psychic thread reverberated with his disbelief. "Ow!"

Superman paused and turned around when Artemis punched the speedster in the back of the shoulder. "Everything okay back there?"

"Just peachy." The two offered plastic smiles.

"Well, this seems like a good enough spot to stop and talk about trail signs, anyway."

Six voices groaned as one.

While Clark taught the Team the meanings of different trails signs and how to make the signs with what was available (twigs or branches for foresty trails, rocks or pebbles for deserty trails, etc.), the Team planned their take-down of the Superman.

/_'I can run as distraction for Rob to get away_.'/ Kid Flash offered.

/_'I think Supey might be a more effective distraction, KF._'/ Robin's telepathic voice was thoughtful.

/_'No._'/ Was Conner's clear and definite reply. /_'I don't want to talk to him if I don't have to._'/

/_'What do you think, Kaldur._'/ M'gann asked.

/_'I refuse to participate._'/ The atlantian shook his head.

/_Alright, Kaldur's out._'/ Artemis gave a mental shrug. /_'Wally's our distration with Conner as back-up. Rob makes a dash for the Cave's zetta-tubes to get his secret weapon. Is that what we're going with?_'/

/_'Sounds good to me._'/ Wally gave a mental nod.

"Now, who can tell me the differences between, magnetic north, grid north and true north?"

Gawd! Was he still talking?

…

It was as they were tide-pooling along the shore that the Team put their plan into action.

Wally rushed up to Superman and, running circles around him, assailed him with questions about what his uncle was like when he wasn't around. Did the American Alien have any embarrassing stories about him? Would he share? What about the other mentors? Any funny stories about them? Tell us!

It was not the most elegant of distractions, but it served to draw the Superman's attention enough for the little ninja-bird to slink away and back into the Cave. He took a zetta-tube to Gotham and then swung the rest of his way to Wayne Manor and the Batcave.

…

"You're home early."

Dick nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Bruce's voice. The high-backed swivel chair in front of the bat-computer's monitor array began to rotate slowly until 'Gotham Prince' Bruce Wayne, the Batman became visible. He offered his foster son a lop-sided smile.

"Oh, I just needed to grab something." The little bird said awkwardly.

"Mm-hm." That lop-sided smiled turned knowing Bruce wheeled his chair back around to once again face the monitor array.

Dick made a B-line for the Hero Closet. It wasn't so much a 'closet' as it was a narrow corridor lined with lockers, each bearing the name of one of the current members of the Justice League. Dick opened the locked sporting a plaque that read 'Superman: Clark Kent' and then followed his home address in Metropolis, the coordinates for the Fortress in the Arctic and the Kansas address of his parents. Inside the locker was only one item.

…Or rather, inside the locker there _should_ have been a single item.

Dick closed the door, replaced the lock and exited the 'closet'. It wasn't there. Bruce's kryptonite ring should have been in that locker.

"Something wrong, Dick?" Bruce called from over his chair.

"No." The little bird lied. "Everything's just peachy."

"I thought you liked Clark."

Robin remained silent.

"Either way, you might want to get back before he works himself up into a state of panic."

"What?"

Bruce pressed a button on the terminal and the main monitor screen displayed the security feeds from the Cave. His Team looked disgruntled and indignant, as if they'd just had to suffer through a long lecture. Dick couldn't see Clark anywhere, just a red and blue blur that might have been the Superman. It zipped from one camera view to another apparently searching from something.

"He's noticed you're missing."

"Why don't you just call him and tell him I'm back home? He _is_ your friend, isn't he?"

The Dark Knight merely shrugged. "I like watching him squirm. Now, get going, you!"

After his little bird had left, Bruce replaced his ring in the Hero cabinet where it belonged and sat back down in front of his computer array. He pulled up the history of the security feed for earlier that morning and replayed what was probably the most adorable clip he'd seen all week.

"Sunlight…" Robin hissed. "_I am the night_!"

Yes, that was one to be saved into his family album.

…

When Robin zetta'd back into the Cave it was to find a stern looking Superman standing in front of him, apparently having been summoned by the computer's announcement of '**Recognize: Robin B-01**'. The Man of Steel glared at him, his arms crossed over his S-shield, index fingers tapping on his biceps, awaiting an explanation.

Dick muttered out something hollow and paper-thin.

Clark didn't buy it.

Robin tried the 'it was a Bat-thing', excuse.

The Superman remained unimpressed.

In the end Clark decided that if Dick wanted to be secretive about where he had been while he was going out of his mind with worry over loosing one of the kids, then fine. Dick didn't have to tell him. But Bruce was going to hear about it (as if that mattered) and Robin now had KP duty for lunch (a slightly more effective punishment).

When the Boy Wonder was finally allowed to slink away from the Boy Scout it was to be pounced upon by the rest of his Team.

"So, did you get it?" Wally asked before M'gann could reestablish their mental link-up.

/_'No._'/ He had to admit. /_'The mission was a bust_.'/

…


	3. Red SunGun

Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

(A/N: Okay, so allot of you have been asking what 'KP' duty is. K.P. stands for 'Kitchen Prep', it is the abbreviation given to both set-up and clean-up before and after meals on scouting functions (this goes for Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts and Girl Guides). Set-up can be from anything as simple as just setting a table to having to scale and gut fish (it depends on the troop and the outing), but usually set-up isn't all that bad. Clean up s always gross and it the most onerous task that can possibly be assigned to a patrol within a troop. When I was in Scouting my leaders would threaten to reassign it as a punishment and now that I myself am a troop leader I've made similar threats.)

Scouting

Chapter Three: Red Sun-Gun

Robin's plan had failed do to the unforeseen interference of the Batman and so it looked like the Team was stuck with their obnoxiously cheerful and overbearing den mother hovering hover them for the full week. (At least most of them didn't actually live at the Cave. They could go home at the end of the weekend, Conner and M'gann had to stay.)

Wally spent most of lunch drawing squiggled and waves on his napkin.

/_'What are you doing?_'/ Artemis leaned over from where she'd been sitting next to him to peer at his doodling. M'gann had left the Team's telepathic link up seeing as none of them wanted the Big Blue Boy Scout butting in on them no matter how mundane their conversation.

/_'I'm mapping out the light spectrum._'/ Replied the young science wiz. /_'Since Rob's plan failed, I've been working on one of my own._'/

That announcement perked up everyone on the Team. They all looked up from their plates to stare expectantly at the young speedster. Wally slid his napkin into the center of the table and began to explain.

/_'Okay, so, Superman gets his power from our yellow sun, right?_'/ He began.

Conner nodded.

/'_Well, yellow sunlight has a wavelength of 600 nano-meters and a frequency of 6-thousand hertz. He louses his powers under red sunlight and that has a wavelength of 665 nano-meters and a frequency of 6,650 hertz. I hypothesize that if we could whip-up some kina red solar energy ray, we can take out Big Blue's powers, Supey can beat him up and then we ship him back up to Watchtower and ask for a new den mummy. What do ya think?_'/

/'_I do not believe you are serious._'/ Kaldur crossed his arms over his chest. /_'But I will still not be a part of this foolishness._'/

Robin peered at the Kid Flash's napkin. /_'Its doable. If you can talk me through putting together an EMP emitter in under five minuets I'm sure making a sun-gun would be no problem._'/

/_'Alright!_'/ Wally smiled. /_'Operation Sun-Gun is underway!_'/

/_'After I finish cleaning the kitchen._'/ Rob amended.

/_'Right. And we all have to do crafts, too._'/ M'gann reminded them all. /_'Basket weaving, duct tape wallets, lanyards, candle making… Actually, candle making sounds fun._'/

/_'I am interested in learning the basket weaving._'/ Kaldur commented.

/_'Oh, no!_'/ Wally's psychic thread was equal parts exclamation and joke. /_'He's turning you. No! You must resist the Dork Side!'_/

Artemis snorted loudly at that.

Superman looked up at the sound. Everyone quickly returned their attention to the lunches.

/_'Why do you wanna learn candle making?_'/ Conner asked. He placed his hand over M'gann's under the table. /_'Fire hurts you._'/

/_'Yeah, but they're still pretty to look at._'/ She informed him. /_'Especially the ones with things like shells and stuff in them._'/

/_'I believe basket weaving can be a practical skill._'/ Kaldur volunteered, though no one had asked. /_'And its always good to have a hobby._'/

/_Great... We've lost them!_'/ Wally shrugged in defeat.

…

Superman had said that after crafts they could have some free time, so Wally chose the simplest, fastest craft off the Boy Scout's list and finished it even faster. He proudly handed a wallet made of duct tape to the Man of Steel and then zoomed from the common room before he could ask, "Don't you want to personalize it a bit?"

But it was to late. The Fastest Boy Alive had already barricaded himself in one of the previously vacant workrooms. So, the Boy Scout turned his attention to helping the five remaining kids with their crafts.

Real candle making took hours. One had to dip the wick in the hot wax, then into ice water (or just cold water) to make it harden, then back into the hot wax for another layer, then ice water, hot wax, ice water, etc. infinitum, ad nausium. But M'gann wanted to learn how to make the "pretty" candles, the kind with glass stones, seashells, or dried flowers in them and those were _easy_! Clark pulled an empty juice carton from the kitchen garbage, rinsed it out and showed the martian girl how to lean her shells against the sides of the carton so that they would show on the outside of the candle after the wax set. Then he placed the wick in the center, careful to hold it erect while he pored in the wax.

Artemis snorted at that step, muttering, "Lul, he said 'erect'."

The Boy Scout flashed her a disapproving look.

Conner flashed _him_ a murderous look.

Clark blew on the cardboard carton with his ice breath to cool it faster and when the wax had hardened, ripped the cardboard aside to reveal one perfectly made "pretty" candle with seashells in it. M'gann smiled at the perfect example and how easy it was and she clapped her hands with excitement to make her own. She fished another carton from the trash, rinsed it out and repeated Superman's process step by step. Her candle wasn't _quite_ as perfect as the Boy Scout's, but then it was her _first _try.

Superman then moved to Kaldur and basket weaving. The hardest part about basket weaving was the start. After that is was easy as 1-2, 1-2, 1-2. Clark laid out several long and ribbon thin shavings of wood for the atlantian. He arranged them out over the common room's coffee table, interlocking them in a cross-hatching pattern and spacing them out so that the table could be seen through the perfectly square gaps in the spokes. Bending the spokes up at the edges of the grid he'd created, the Boy Scout showed Aqualad how to weave the ribbon thin length of wood between the spokes, easy as 1-2, 1-2, 1-2.

He turned to Artemis. But she waved him off, having already completed a good fourth of her lanyard, doing an alternating box-stick, barrel-stick pattern that gave a nice jagged effect of stairs spiraling upwards. She knew what she was doing and needed no help from the Boy Scout there. With extreme reluctance, the Superman turned to his clone.

Superboy sat beside M'gann, arms crossed over his chest, a dark scowl on his face.

"This is stupid." He announced.

"Come on, Conner, this is fun!" M'gann was on her third candle now. She had exhausted the Cave's supply of empty cardboard cartons and had moved on to paper cups.

He scoffed at her and turned his head away.

"I'm sure we can find something for you to do." Superman insisted. "How about leather craft?"

"Wolf would probably just eat it." The Superboy brushed off the suggestion.

"Metallurgy?"

"Maybe if I had heat-vision. But I don't."

"Wood carving?"

"No."

"Ship building?"

"No."

"Corn-husk dolls?"

"_Hell no_!"

"Sock puppets?"

"No."

"Collage?"

"No."

"Quilting."

"Just give up."

"I never give up!" The two glared at each other. Crystal blue eyes meeting crystal blue eyes. "You're going to do something _constructive_ with your time, Supe- Conner."

At that the boy's dark scowl brightened. "So, you're saying I can do whatever I want, so long as it constructive."

"Within reason." Nodded the Boy Scout.

"Fine." The Superboy stood. "I'm going to help Wally."

He left the room.

Superman sighed, equal parts disappointment at not being able to find something for the boy to do and relief at not having to deal with him for another couple of hours.

Shortly after Conner disappeared into the same workroom that Kid Flash had, Robin rejoined the group, his KP duty completed. He sat down on the couch; measure out a lanyard and then after three stitches tossed the thing back down. He looked up at Clark.

"Hey, how come _we_ weren't offered metallurgy as an option?"

…

It had taken them all the way until dinner to complete it. But with Conner's help, Wally had managed to make his Red Sun-gun! That should take care of the pesky Boy Scout.

"I even installed a dial on it to toggle between red and yellow sunlight." The science-wiz speedster explained.

Conner blinked at him. "Why would we need it to shoot yellow sunlight too?"

"To restore your powers to you, of course."

A pause. "Wally… I _have_ my powers."

"Not after I test it on you. At least, not if I made it right."

"_Excuse me!"_ The Superboy all but shouted.

"Well, we'll need to test it on someone." The Kid Flash said as if this were obvious.

"Then go shoot Superman with it! That _is_ what you designed it for." Like hell was Conner going to let Wally rob him of his powers in the name of SCIENCE! Stupid science.

"And what if it doesn't work?" Asked the speedster, trying to reason with the Superboy. "Then we'll have one pissed-off kryptonian on our hands, and _you_ still have to live with him for the rest of the week_. I_ get to go home after dinner."

"There's already one pissed-off kryptonian in here and, so help me, if you shoot me with that thing you won't even make it to dinner!"

"Don't worry. You'll be fine." He brought the Red Sun-gun to bear.

Conner grabbed it, angling the barrel up towards the ceiling and away from himself. "Hell. No."

"Supey, let go." KF tried to pull the sun-gun out of the Superboy's vice-like grip.

Conner refused to let go. Helping to bring down the Superman was one thing, but he wasn't about to let himself become a guinea pig. He'd had plenty of that at Cadmus. He tightened his grip of the barrel.

Wally pulled harder.

Conner just tightened his grip again.

There was a creaking-crunch as the metal collapsed under the Superboy's hold. He let go. Wally stared at his now broken and useless Red Sun-gun. It had taken him two hours to build the thing and in had only taken Conner two minuets to destroy.

"Great." Kid Flash muttered. "Now what?"

They exited the workroom together and met-up with the rest of the Team, looking glum. The number of candles in the room had tripled since Conner had left. M'gann had run out of containers to use and was shaping them using her telekinesis now. She was also making them in more exotic shapes now that she wasn't limited by the need for paper or cardboard cartons anymore.

Kaldur was just putting the finishing touches on his third basket. He also seemed to be exploring different types of weaving, twisting the slats to make interesting patterns. Robin was making a sales pitch to Superman about why he should teach the little bird metallurgy. And Artemis walked up to Wally and shoved something into his hand.

"Here." She said. "I made this for you, though you don't deserve it."

Wally blinked as he opened his hand to reveal a keychain lanyard.

Upon seeing them emerged from the workroom, Robin stopped pestering the Boy Scout and hopped over to where the rest of the Team had gathered.

"So, did you make it?" He asked. "Are we good to go?"

Conner and Wally exchanged a glance.

"No." They had to admit. "The plan was a bust."

…


	4. Independent Reading

Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

Scouting

Chapter Four: Independent Reading

"Now, this is the point where we go around and all say what our favorite part of the weekend was." Superman smiled.

They had all be gathered in the Cave's common room and stood in a circle for what the Boy Scout called 'taps'. 'Taps' was actually the name a song sung during closing ceremonies, but the moment the Superman had opened his mouth and begun the first verse, everyone had groaned loudly and begged the Big Blue Boy Scout to please, for the love of whatever omnipotent power he believed in, please not sing. They would do anything! Just please don't sing or, more importantly, don't make them sing!

So, fine then. They had continued with the Superman's 'closing ceremony'. After this they could all go home. Well, all but Conner and M'gann, they lived at the Cave and had to stay here. Poor them.

"Who wants to go first?" Clark peered around the circle of fledgling heroes. If no one volunteered he would pick someone. "Wally, what was your favorite part of this weekend?"

The young speedster glared distastefully at the Boy Scout. He was severely tempted to tell the man that his favorite part of the weekend had been Saturday morning before Bats brought the Superman over. But he figured that would not be in his best interest. He was almost free, after this he could go home. Might as well just suffer through it, the sooner it was over, the sooner he could go home.

"Breakfast was cool." He muttered. "I liked the Flash pancake."

The rest of the Team reluctantly nodded. Pancakes flipped in the air that looked liked things were pretty cool.

"Snapps for Wally." Said the Boy Scout, and to accompany this he snapped his fingers several times. Apparently, in this 'closing ceremony' of his you were supposed to snap after a person shared. My god! It was like that stupid gimmick from the second Legally Blond movie, only without an airhead blond clad all in pink.

Then he nodded to Artemis.

"What?" The fem fatal archer crossed her arms over her chest.

"What was your favorite part of this weekend?"

She swallowed a growl. This was almost over. It was almost over. Almost over. Just get through this and she could go home. Just get through this. Get through this.

"I liked the hike." She lied through her teeth.

Superman smiled. "Snapps for Artemis."

Kaldur was next, and it was no surprise that he most enjoyed the basket weaving, and he wasn't fibbing either. Out of the entire Team, the atlantian warrior and M'gann were the two that were actually ending the day on a high note.

Snapps for Kaldur.

On Robin's turn, the boy growled and said with a plastic grin and a trollish-voice, "Oh, I loved cleaning the kitchen best of all, Uncle Sueps. It was super-special-awesome fun!"

Superman had frowned at that, but given him snapps all the same.

M'gann bubbled and bounced when it came to her turn and she said with enthusiasm that it was the candle making she most enjoyed. No surprise there. The common room was filled with her exotic looking wax sculptures that just so happened to have wicks poking out their tops.

Snapps for M'gann.

…And then they came to Conner.

He glared daggers at the Man of Steel, as if willing the man to simply drop dead from the sheer intensity of his gaze. Superman seemed unfazed as he stared back at his clone with calm indifference, waiting for the boy to speak. He was the last one, all he had to do was say what his favorite part of the weekend was and this would all be over and the rest of the Team could go home. The rest of the Team could go home, but he would have to stay here with Superman…

"This is stupid." He finally said, not for the first time that day. He broke the circle and stomped off to his room, slamming the sliding door shut with a resounding _swish-THUNK_ that echoed down the corridor and made Clark wonder if he'd just broken the door.

Everyone stared in silence after him.

Superman cleared his throat. "Well, my favorite part about this weekend was seeing all the clever and creative ways you kids came up with to try and take me down."

They gaped at him, disbelieving. He smiled back.

"Well, that's it." He said, intentionally avoiding further comment on their attempts to subdue him. "It's a school night, so go home and go to bed. Sleep tight and don't let the-"

"I will pay you any amount of money to not finish that old cliché!" Robin illustrated this by reaching into his belt and pulling out a rather ordinary looking civilian wallet.

Superman sputtered for a moment then sighed. "Put that away, Robin."

They broke circle, the Team all going to their separate rooms to pack their things up to go home.

"I don't get it," Wally muttered, "how'd he know what we were doing and if he knew, why didn't he try to stop us?"

"Batman probably told him." Robin guessed. Clark just didn't have the powers of observation or deductive reasoning to figure out what they had been planning. Or what they were actually capable of. "As to why he didn't try to stop us, it's probably some unnecessarily complicated and convoluted tactic to teach us a random and mundane life-lesson, or something. He does that."

…

It was as Wally was just about to step into the zetta-tube that would take him home when Conner grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

The genomorph leaned in close to the young speedster and whispered, "Dude, lemme stay at your place this week."

"Huh?" The Kid Flash blinked back at the Superboy. "I'd love to have you over, Supey, but its not like back in the summer when you stayed at my place. I got school. And unlike you, I actually need sleep. My parents have a strict 'no sleep-overs' on school nights rule. Besides, you'll have to zetta back here on the way to your school anyway. It'd be easier for you to just stay here."

Conner cast a wary glance back to the corridor that separated the zetta hangar from the common area –where Superman currently was.

"_Please_, Wally." Begged the Superboy.

"Sorry, man." The speedster patted him on the shoulder sympathetically. "But, hey, now you finally get to get to know Superman. That's what you always wanted, right?"

Conner looked like he was about to kill something.

…

He felt the man's eyes watching him as he kissed M'gann goodnight in front of her bedroom door. Her body was pressed against his, both hands hung round his neck, her lips parted slightly begging his tongue to enter… but he didn't. His kiss was a chase one. Lips to lips, mouth closed, tongue unmoving –a cold kiss by their standards. And yet, Conner could feel Superman's disapproving glare burning into the back of his neck.

They broke apart, Conner moving away first.

/_'Aren't you coming to bed?_'/ She silently asked.

/_'I'm going to my own bed tonight._'/ He replied, shaking his head and refusing to glance behind him at his genetic parent.

/_'Because of this morning?_'/

/_'Yes._'/ The Superboy admitted. /_'But not for the reason you think. Superman told me something… It's apparently illegal for us to sleep together, and we can't stay on the Team if we break the law._'/

/_'What?'_/ M'gann blinked up at him. /_'That's the most ridiculous… why can't we have sex?'_/

/_'Apparently, you have to be eighteen to have sex.'/_

_/'That sounds made-up!'_/ The martian girl crossed her arms over her chest. /_'I'm going to look that up. I don't believe it._'/

She retreated into her room. Conner sighed and headed for his own, finally flashing one short but loathsome glare at his genetic-parent as he did so.

…

One of the great things about being kryptonian was that your body stored solar energy more efficiently than any man-made battery or organic organism native to Earth. This meant that kryptonins living under a yellow sun didn't need to eat quite as much or as often as normal humans, they had longer endurance, and did not require anywhere near as much sleep as a normal human being.

It was this last gift of his kryptonian heritage that Conner was rather unappreciative of at the moment.

He had gone to his own room after kissing M'gann good night, changed into his pajamas, climbed into his closet, leaned against the wall and fallen asleep. That had been three hours ago. He was now wide awake and bored out of his skull. Usually when this happened he would just lean over in bed and coax M'gann into some late night sex. But that wasn't an option now.

He began going over his mental checklist of everything that had to be done before school. Homework? Check. Done on Friday after he got back to the Cave. Essay on a current event for history? Done. A human-interest piece he'd cut out of the Daily Planet, by a reporter named Clark Kent. Pages 234 – 236 in his math textbook. Easy and done. His Cadmus programming had told him the answers without him ever having to work through the problems himself. Physics? Also easily done, also thanks to his programming. English? He had long since finished reading _1984_ for class; he just needed to choose in independent reading book. Stupid independent reading project.

With a groan of annoyance, Conner climbed out of his closet. He always felt more comfortable sleeping vertical in a tight space whenever he was sleeping alone. He exited his room, on his way to the Cave's library to find a book.

Conner had to pass through the common room on his way there and much to the young Superboy's chagrin, he found Superman also awake, sitting on the couch, his feet up on the coffee table with a laptop resting on his knees. The man seemed to be absorbed in typing… _something_ and Conner hoped he could sneak by without drawing the man's attention. He did not want to be subjected to camp songs and overly cheerful speeches first thing after waking up. Superboy crept behind the couch on his tiptoes, trying his very best not to make a sound. His genetic parent's hearing was just as good as his own (possibly better). Conner figured if he could hear himself, then it was a safe bet that Superman could hear him too.

"I see you inherited my sleeping habits." The man commented without turning around.

_Damn it!_

He clicked the 'save' icon on his document and set the computer aside. He then lowered his feet from the coffee table and turned around to face his clone. "But then again, you practically _are_ me, so it's to be expected."

That line was said with an almost scathing tone and Conner wondered, not for the first time, if Superman viewed him and his creation as a form of 'identity theft'. He crossed his arms over his chest and planted his feet, not willing to demure under the man's passive aggressive barb. "I'm not exactly like you." He said. "I can't fly."

(Or do a bunch of other things that Superman could, but why give a list.)

The Superboy expected him to respond with something equally scathing like, 'I've heard you can't hold your temper either.' But he didn't. Instead, the Superman looked slightly confused.

"Why would you?" He asked.

"Why would I what?"

"Fly?" Clarified the Boy Scout.

"You can fly." Conner growled, suddenly very annoyed with his genetic-parent, well, more so than before. "You say I practically _am_ you, but you can fly and I can't."

"Yeah, but I'm over thirty. You're me when I was fifteen."

"Sixteen."

"Whatever." Clark shrugged. "The point is, of course you can't fly now because I couldn't fly back then."

A bright warm feeling that felt suspiciously like hope welled up within Conner and he suddenly wasn't annoyed with Superman anymore. In fact, for giving him that singular piece of information he rather wanted to hug the man.

"Let's see… sixteen…" Superman was saying. "Gosh that was so long ago. You must have super-strength. Well, obviously you do. I saw you almost lifting that bus back in August."

"I _was_ lifting that bus." And now he was back to being annoyed with him. "I told you _I had that_."

Superman pretended not to hear him. "And then you should also have invulnerability, super-hearing, infrared vision –telescopic should manifest next, followed by X-ray and then heat would come last in that line. Have you got super-speed yet?"

"No." A growl.

"Hm, give it a couple months." He tapped his chin as if in thought. "When did my super-breath manifest…?"

"So," Conner interrupted him. "Since you know what all my powers will be, when they'll manifest and how to use them… _why don't you want to mentor me_?"

There. He had said it. He had asked the question he'd been wanting to ask since August.

Superman fell silent.

Conner waited.

Superman avoided the boy's eyes.

Conner glared at the man.

The silence dragged on… One could almost see the metaphorical elephant in the room as the two men remained that way, unspeaking, unmoving. They were less than two feet apart, but for all intents and purposes they might as well have been worlds away from one another.

"Fine." Conner finally snapped, breaking the silence. "Don't tell me. I don't really care all that much anyway. I really just asked out of curiosity. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to find a book for school"

"What book?" Superman asked and Conner couldn't tell if he was feigning interest in an attempt to make peace or if his sudden interest was genuine. Conner also couldn't tell why in the name all that was camp he actually found himself answering the man.

"Don't know yet." He shrugged. "Its an independent assignment. We get to choose our books."

A pause. And then, "You might like _Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep_ by Philip Dick or _Friday_ by Robert Heinlein."

"Thanks." The boy said, completely devoid of any sort of gratitude. "I'll be sure to look for those." _So that I know what to avoid._

He made his way to the library. Found Philip Dick and Robert Heinlein in the sci-fi section and proceeded past them strait to action-suspense. There, he found an author he did not expect: Clark Kent. Three book by him. Conner had already done several current event assignments using the man's articles, he wrote mostly about social issues like homelessness, the displaced, the effects of economic down-turn, the correlation between lower-education and likelihood of crime, etc. Conner liked him and found himself wondering just what kind of fiction he would write.

He pulled one of the books off the shelf, _Under the Yellow Sun_, and read the plot synopsis on the inside flap of the dust cover. It sounded interesting enough. Why not? He flipped to the title page and saw that it had been signed by the author.

'_To the Super Friends… I mean Justice Club… I mean League,_

'Thanks for reading. Ha! I know none of you will ever have the time to read this, but thanks for buying it. This'll probably end-up propping up a crooked table leg in someone's base (three guesses who's).

'_But, whatever. Hugs and kisses!_

'_-CK'_

What a weird note to write, and to the Justice League of America of all things. Mr. Kent obviously had a strange sense of humor. Conner flipped to the back inside flap of the dust cover where they usually printed a few words about the author and paused to study the black and white photo of the man. One word rang out through the Superboy's mind as he looked at that picture… '_NERD!_'

Clark Kent was the spitting image of the stereotypical bookworm, know-it-all, brain trust, _nerd_. From his perfectly combed dark hair to his large thick and utterly unflattering horn-rimmed glasses, Mr. Kent looked like he could have walked out of one of those TV sit-coms M'gann was always watching. Conner actually snorted in amusement. But whatever, he was still going to read it.

Book in hand, the Superboy returned to the common room. Superman had apparently finished typing whatever it was he had been typing and was e-mailing the document to someone.

"What are you doing?" The boy found himself asking before he could stop himself.

"Waving at deadlines as I pass them by." Smiled the Boy Scout. Conner didn't understand and he didn't ask for a clarification. Superman seemed perfectly content to leave it at that, vague and cryptic. Fine. "So, did you find a book?"

"That's a stupid question." The boy answered. "I was in a library. Of course I found a book, I found lots of them. What did you expect me to find in a library? Model airplanes?"

Superman offered him a strained smile, as if he were trying not to louse his patience. "I meant, did you find a book for school."

"Not that it's any business of yours, but yes, I did." He held up _Under a Yellow Sun_ for his to see, the author's name in big bold print at the top of the front cover. Conner couldn't figure out why the Man of Steel suddenly looked so shocked. "What?"

"You… that…" He cleared his throat and composed himself. "I thought that was propping up a table in the Batcave. Did Batman give you that?"

"No." The boy blinked in confusion. "It was in the library."

Of course it was. Bruce probably stashed it there when they re-opened the Cave intending for this to happen. "What made you choose Kent?"

Conner shrugged. "I like his newspaper articles. I didn't know he wrote fiction too. I though I might give it a try."

"You read his articles?"

Why did Superman suddenly appear to be having trouble breathing? Did he not like Kent or something? Come to think of it, Clark Kent worked for the Daily Planet, the same newspaper that Lois Lane worked for and Lane wrote more Superman stories than any other person in the world. It was widely speculated that she and Superman knew each other personally. Maybe Superman also knew Kent personally, since he must work close to Lane… Maybe he didn't like the nerd?

"What's the matter with you? Do you not like him or something?"

"No, I… he's…" A sputter, choke, stutter, swear in kryptonian. "It's not the sort of thing I expected you to read."

"Have you read it?"

A pause. "Yes…"

"Well then, don't spoil anything and keep your comments to yourself."

…


	5. 314159265…

Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. Neither do I own the song '_A Country Boy Can Survive' _by Hank Williams Jr. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

Scouting

Chapter Five: 3.14159265…

Conner caught a glimps of a red cape out the corner of his eye as he turned a page in _Under a Yellow Sun_. He turned his glance upwards to find Superman hovering over him.

"May I help you?"

"Oh, I, uh… I was just curious where you are." Answered the Boy Scout uneasily. "Did he rescue the children from the school bus in middle of the war-zone yet?"

Conner blinked. Turned a few pages ahead from where he had been reading. Scanned the chapter then looked back up at the Superman.

"You're an ass." He said. "I told you not to spoil anything. Next you'll be telling me hot secretary dies."

Superman remained tactfully silent.

"Go away!"

The Boy Scout retreated into the kitchen with a shrug and set about preparing breakfast and making sack lunches for M'gann and Conner. As the early morning gave way to simply just 'morning' Superman retrieved a heavy iron triangle and equally heavy-looking iron rod. These he held up to the kitchen intercom and gave the triangle a good loud clanging. Conner fell off the couch, his hands over his ears, his book clattering to the floor, his place lost.

"For the love of James Dewey Watson!" The boy exclaimed. "Was that really necessary! You could have just sent me to wake her up."

The Boy Scout only shrugged at his clone, then turning back to the intercom said, "Rise and shine, M'gann. It's a beautiful Monday morning and you don't want to be late for school!"

A few moments later, M'gann emerged. She had already morphed into her guise of the white-caucasian girl Megan Morse wearing her pink cardigan. She yawned good mornings to both of them before taking-up a stool at the island that separated the kitchen from the common room. Superman set a plate of biscuits and gravy in front of her.

"You cooked again?"

Conner wondered if Superman also caught the defensive undertone in that question. M'gann was usually the one to cook all meals in the Cave. It was her 'thing' and she (apparently) was very territorial about her kitchen. Then again, even if the Superman did notice, he didn't seem to care when he stepped on their toes, so it probably wouldn't matter to him. Conner retrieved his book from the floor and joined his girlfriend at the marble countertop.

/_'Sleep well?_'/ He asked over a psychic thread as he attempted to find his place in his book.

/_'Would have been better if you were there._'/ She sent back and took a bite of the biscuit with gravy Superman had passed her. "Oh, wow! This is good!"

Conner made a face at hw easily she was swayed. She was annoyed with the man no more than a moment ago, but the moment she'd tried his cooking that vexation was gone. The Superboy wished he could switch gears that quickly. He took a bite of his own biscuit with gravy. It was alright. A second bite. Okay, it was better than 'alright'. A third bite. Fine, it was pretty good! But that didn't mean he had to like the overbearing Boy Scout as much as he did the man's cooking.

They finished their meal in relative silence and then Conner and M'gann were stuffing their books and homework into their backpacks and rushing out to school, Superman detaining them only momentarily in the hangar to make sure they took the lunches he'd made for them. And then the kids were gone, off at school and Clark was given free reign of the Cave.

He flopped down on the couch, reached for the remote and for the first time since he arrived on Saturday, turned on the TV.

No sooner had he done this, however, than the Cave's main comm buzzed. With a groan Clark climbed back to his feet and made his way to the control room to answer the call. Bruce's face appeared on the screen, his shoulders clad in a pair of his black satin rich-boy pajamas.

"You're such a hypocrite." He smiled through a yawn. Clark couldn't decide if he were just waking up or just going to bed. Both were equally likely considering the Batman's lifestyle.

"I beg your pardon?"

Now the Dark Knight's smiled was trollish. "C'mon, Clark, don't tell me you're gonna spend the whole day laying about in front of the TV. You'll miss the best part of the day."

Clark missed one… two… three beats before, "Well, you can always come over and I'll teach you how to make your own jerky."

"No thanks." Bruce stretched and yawned again. "I've got people to do that for me. Now, I've got a date with a pillow. I just wanted to call and harass you."

"Do you do this to all the den mothers?"

"No. Just the special ones." Another trollish grin. "Oh! And it was me who put your books in the library. I didn't think it was possible, but I've found a new author better suited to propping up table legs than you are."

"I'm. So. Glad." He ground his teeth.

"Have fun, Clark." The Batman switched off.

The Superman was fairly certain that Bruce would be having far more fun he would.

…

Conner spent lunch with his nose in _Under a Yellow Sun_ by Clark Kent. His sack lunch that Superman had made for him went untouched on the table in front of him, as his girlfriend went unnoticed in the seat next to him, as their small group of friends went ignored around him.

"Jeez, what's he reading?" Marvin asked, tilting his head to try and get a glimpse of the cover.

"I didn't know boy's could devote so much attention to something that wasn't porn." Karen snorted.

The girls giggled (M'gann slightly hesitantly as she didn't get the joke). Marvin and Mal shot Karen dirty looks.

"Yo, Conner, what're you reading?" When he didn't get a response, Mal snapped his fingers. "Hey?"

There was a prolonged pause and then Conner looked up. "Huh? Sorry, what's going on?"

Everyone snorted in amusement.

"They want to know what you're reading so intently." M'gann explained.

"Oh." He marked his place and closed _Under a Yellow Sun_, turning his attention to his circle of civilian friends. "Its just my book for out independent reading project."

"Slow down, man." Marvin shrugged. "We just got that assignment last week, no need to rush through it like its due tomorrow."

"Yeah." Wendy chimed in. "Don't sacrifice this precious lunch time for an assignment."

"'Sacrifice'?" Conner blinked. "But I finished the book this morning. This is my second time reading it."

"What?"

"Its really good." He assured them.

They gaped at him as if he were insane.

"I really like this author." He continued. "I think when I get home I'm gonna pull his other two books off the shelf."

Silence. None of them had ever imagined Conner Kent as a 'book person'.

Marvin coughed.

The conversation then turned to football and cheerleading and Conner went back to his book.

…

It wasn't until the end of M'gann's cheerleader practice; long after school had ended when the subject of their sleeping arrangements came up again.

"So, I did some fact-checking in computer lab." She said as Conner slung her backpack along with his own over one shoulder. "And the age of legal consent in Delaware, where Metropolis is located is eighteen. So, Superman's kinda right; if we were in his town we'd be breaking the law. But here in Rode Island the age of consent is only sixteen, so we're good. I don't think Superman lied to you." She was quick to assure him. "He probably just didn't know."

"But I'm still less than a year old." Conner reminded her.

"And in Earth's measurement of years I'm forty-eight." She scoffed. "The point is that we're equivalent to the age of consent. So we're fine."

…

When they returned to the Cave it was to find the sound of country music filling the halls.

'… _I can plough a field all day long, I can catch catfish from dusk till dawn…'_

Conner removed his superfluous motorcycle helmet and paused, thinking his ears must be playing tricks on him. "What is that?"

"What's what?" Asked M'gann, likewise removing her own helmet.

'… We make our own whiskey and our own smoke too, ain't to many things these ol' boys can't do…'

"You don't here that?"

M'gann crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not the one with the super-hearing."

'…_We grow good ole tomatoes and homemade wine, and a country boy can survive…'_

Conner followed the sound, leading him from the hangar into the common area when first he saw that the TV had been set to Pandora radio and was playing an all country channel, it was then that he saw Superman.

'… Country folks can survive.'

The Man of Steel stood, partially leaning against the couch, eyes closed, an invisible guitar in his hands, lip-synching to the lyrics. Oh. My. Gawd! Superman listens to country music. What a dork! …But actually, now that Conner thought about it, it kinda did make sense. His genetic-parent did seem just the type. Ew. And he was related to the man! Superboy's skin began to crawl.

'… _Because you can't starve us out, and can't makes us run…'_

Okay, that was enough. Conner reached for the remote and switched off the speakers. Superman paused, opened his eyes, glared at Conner for the briefest of nano-seconds before replacing the loathsome stare with a welcoming smile.

"Welcome home." He said with forced cheer. "How was school?"

"It was great." M'gann smiled.

The Boy Scout nodded. "I'll make some snacks and then you can get started on your homework."

…

Conner chomped loudly on apple slices, hoping the obnoxious noise would bother the Superman enough to leave the room and stop hovering over them (figuratively). None of their other den mothers had ever been so overbearing or ever present. In fact, sometimes Conner forgot that they were even there. But not Superman, no, he seemed to be under the impression that if he left them alone for longer than the time it took him to use the restroom, the universe would implode. The genomorph wondered if this was what was meant by 'helicopter parent'.

…And then Conner noticed the most delicious scent coming from the kitchen. Like pastry crust, baked to a golden brown finish with cinnamon, sugar, apples and butter. He felt his mouth water and looked up at his genetic parent to ask, "What do I smell?"

"Oh, that?" Superman shrugged. "That is your after-homework-reward. You get a slice only after you've finished your homework and shown it to me."

They had to show him their homework, too? It wasn't enough to just do it and be done with it, no, the Superman had to look over their work and approve it. Micro-managing _Boy Scout_! Conner suppressed a snarl and returned his attention to his essay on _1984_. At least homework was easy for him, between his heightened kryptonian intelligence and his Cadmus programming, school was a breeze. He finished his homework and with great reluctance, presented it to Superman for review. His genetic-parent nodded his approval and then gave the ETA for when the 'reward' would be ready. Until then, he was free to do as he pleased so long as he was quiet and didn't disturb M'gann whom was still working.

That was fine. _Janus Contract_ by Clark Kent, here he comes!

Conner dashed down to the library, found Clark Kent and pulled his first book off the shelf. His books were all stand alone novels and did not need to be written in any particular order, but now that Conner had decided that he liked the man as a fiction author, he'd prefer to read his books in the order in which they were published. To get a feel for how his writing style evolved. He Carried _The Janus Contract_ back up to the common room and flopped down in a chair to read.

Superman could not help but comment. "I thought you were reading _Yellow Sun_."

"Finished it." Was Conner's short reply.

"How many books do you have to read for this assignment?"

"Just the one." He shrugged. "This one I'm reading because I wanna see what Kent's other books are like. I like him."

Superman sputtered. Jeez, did he really dislike Clark Kent so much that just the idea of someone else liking his books distressed him? "That's… uh, do you know who he is?"

"A reporter for the Daily Planet." A quick flip to the author-bio on the back inside flap of the dust-cover. "Grew-up in Kansas, and he's a total nerd."

Superman said no more.

…

M'gann finished her homework and the 'reward' was served.

Superman pulled a piping hot pie out of the over, cut three slices, topped each with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and served. Conner took one bite of the pie and suddenly experienced Nirvana. All the beauty of the universe was reveled to him, all was right with the world. The crust was warm and flaky, the filling sweet and sticky, the apple chunks cut just small enough to fit in his mouth but big enough to hold their own flavor, the vanilla ice cream a perfect companion for the dance of flavor that now played a euphoric waltz in his mouth. Conner swallowed and the world was suddenly its boring, flavorless and normal self again.

He looked down at his pie. "What… what is this?"

If his voice cracked when he asked that, Superman ignored it. "Apple pie."

"Apple… pie…" He tested the name on his tongue. Even this wonderful desert's _name_ felt pleasant in his mouth. How had he managed to live outside of Cadmus for so long with ever knowing about this wonderful thing? This food of the gods, this Ambrosia of Olympus, this Mana from Heaven, this… this _Apple Pie of Superman_. Conner took another bite and then another. He looked up at the Boy Scout. Surely a man who could create such a wonderful thing couldn't be all bad. He had just been frustrated with the man, he wasn't a bad person.

His musings on pie as an accurate determinate of a man's character was interrupted by his cell phone. Not, his JLA comm, just his normal civilian phone. Conner pulled it out to see that Robin had text him.

'How was ur 1st day alone w/ Supes?'

Conner replied, 'TTYL, eating pi.'

And that was that, the genomorph returned his full attention to the wonderful blend of pasty, fruit and ice cream before him.

A few moments later, the Cave's computer announced, '**Recognize: Robin B-01'** and the Boy Wonder came running into the common area, still in his Gotham Academy uniform, his shades over his eyes, carrying a laptop computer under one arm and a notebook under the other. He plunked these down on the island in front of the Superman.

"Here's my homework!" He exclaimed, lifting the lid on the laptop. He showed the Boy Scout a history report, an English essay, foreign language and art, the in the notebook, math and science. "I can has pie nao, yes?"

"Does Batman know you're here?" Asked the Superman in confusion.

"Ah, right." The little bird fishing in his pocket and pulled out a note. This he handed to the Boy Scout.

It said simply. 'Send him home with a slice for me.' and was signed with a little doodle of a bat.

Clark sighed and cut a slice for the Boy Wonder. "Are you staying for dinner, too?"

…

Robin did not stay for dinner. After he had his pie, he collected up his school things, accepted Batman's slice from Superman and then was zetta'ing back to Gotham.

Superman cooked (again) and after dinner Conner was given KP duty (again). Now that he didn't have the euphoric taste of pie in his mouth, the Superboy was once again finding himself resenting the man greatly. Conner was not looking forward to four more days of this. But at least at the end of those four days it would be over and the Superman would be gone. That thought kept him from doing anything rash.

…That, and the knowledge that he'd once again be sleeping in M'gann's loving embrace tonight.

It was just as the pair was retiring to the martian girl's room for the night when Superman materialized out of nowhere next to the door.

"And where do you think you're going?" He glared at the boy.

"To bed." The genomorph answered simply.

"I thought we already discussed this." The Boy Scout crossed his arms over his chest. "You're to young to be-"

"Excuse me, Superman." M'gann cut in. "But that is just not true." She then went on to explain to the Man of Steel what she'd learned that day about the different state laws on the age of consent and while neither she nor Conner were actually sixteen, they were equivalent to sixteen for their respective races and maturation processes.

To this he had nothing more to say. He just glared disapprovingly at them.

M'gann grabbed Conner by the wrist and pulled him into her room, shutting the door behind them.

Ma Kent would not have approved and that meant that Clark didn't approve either. There was a certain order to things, first comes love, then comes marriage then comes the gratuitous sex. Conner and M'gann seem to have skipped that middle step. In the end, Clark had to conclude that his mistake had been in the reason he'd given Conner for not wanting him and the martian girl to sleep together. But this had been going on since long before he became den mother, so the blame for this situation didn't rest solely with him. There was some comfort to be had in that.

It wasn't his responsibility.

…


	6. Emails & Letters

Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. Neither do I own the song 'A Country Boy Can Survive' by Hank Williams Jr. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

Scouting

Chapter Six: Emails & Letters

Conner slept much longer and worlds better when he was sleeping with M'gann than alone in his own room. But he still didn't need nearly as much sleep as she did. His kryptonian heritage allowed his body to store solar energy, enough to make sleeping longer than three to five hours a chore.

So, often times, he would end up lying awake in bed next to her.

He would _not_ watch her sleep. In fact, he was very sure to make a conscious effort not to do this thing. The first night they had spent together he had laid next to her, just gazing at her sleeping visage and she had woken to find him staring at her. Needless to say, the martian girl had freaked out, giving a yelp of surprise, hitting him with a pillow and tumbling out of bed to fall on her ass. She had called him a creeper and threatened to kick him out of her bed forever if he ever did that again.

He had tried to defend himself, saying that she just looked so lovely and peaceful he couldn't help but stare, or something to that effect. She had then gone on to explain to him, in no uncertain terms, that watching a woman while she slept was not romantic, it was not sweet, it was not charming, it was not in any way endearing, _not at all_! It was frightening.

Conner had no desire to frighten his girlfriend and so while he would spend hours awake in bed with her, he would not watch her sleep. Never again.

Instead he pulled _The __Janus Contract _to him and began to reread. This would be the second of Kents books that he enjoyed enough to read a second time. Things were looking good for when he finally made his way back down to the library for _The Castellan Agenda. _It was a shame that those were the only three books Mr. Kent had ever written. Conner supposed that his life as a reporter kept him to busy to write more pulp-fiction. That was a shame really, Kent was good at what he did. His descriptions were so vivid and clear, but he wasn't wordy and obnoxious like a lot of the authors he had to read for school.

But the thing that Conner found most amazing about the man was not his narrative talent itself, but rather the things the man narrated. Clark Kent wrote like he actually knew how things were. Like he understood having to make difficult moral decisions in sensitive situation. Like he knew what it was like to get shot at, to get blown-up, to get thrown threw a window, or go through a war-zone and come out the other side alive to tell the tale. Of course, as an investigative reporter who's job it was to dig-up dirt on corrupt business men and politicians he probably _did_ know what it was like to be shot at, and having to venture into Suicide Slums in Metropolis for his human interest pieces on crime and poverty, homelessness and displacement, he certainly had an idea of what a 'refugee' of sorts felt like.

But it was more than that. The moral ambiguity of some of the characters' decisions… and some of the characters themselves reminded Conner of people he knew, like Batman or his history teacher Mr. Carr. He remembered that goofy note written in _Under a Yellow Sun_ and wondered, not for the first time, if Mr. Kent knew the JLA personally.

He supposed he could ask Superman. But he didn't want to. Better wait until the week was over and they got a new den mother, he'd ask them.

It was as Conner had made this decision that the Cave's intercom clicked on and the Superboy had only a micro-second's warning to cover his hands over his ears before the monstrous clanging of the Superman's iron triangle blared from the intercom's speakers.

M'gann jerked awake, accidentally smacking her boyfriend as she did so.

"Why does he hate us?" She groaned.

…

Conner made a point to grab _The Castellan Agenda _from the library before leaving for school. He read it before class. He read it at lunch. He read it after school instead of watching M'gann's cheerleader practice. He'd heard that not long ago, only a few short years before his creation, there had been a phenomenon caused by a children's book called _Harry Potter_ where people would become addicted and spend long hours or sometimes ever days of their life reading them and then pine for more books after they'd finished.

That was somewhat similar to the way Conner not felt about Mr. Kent's books. They were stand-alone novels, not a series as the _Harry Potter_ books had been, but Conner was no less addicted. He had finished _Under a Yellow Sun, The Janus Contract_ and _The Castellan Agenda_ but still wanted more. He wished Mr. Kent would write a new book (he didn't care about what) and he wondered why the man hadn't.

He expressed all this to M'gann on the way home and she suggested he write to Mr. Kent in Metropolis about it. "Tell him how much of a fan you are and request he keep writing fiction."

"I donno…" Conner removed his helmet and dismounted his bike. "Would he even read a fan letter?"

"I see no reason why he wouldn't."

They entered the common area to find Superman on his laptop, one again typing. Whatever it was he was working on, however, the kids did not get to see as he downsized the document and put the computer to sleep the moment they entered.

"Welcome home." He said.

"Hi." Both teens chorused in identical tones of loathing.

Then Conner got an idea. "Hey, Superman, you spend allot of time talking to Daily Planet reporters."

"Yeah…?" The Boy Scout answered slowly.

"Do they read their fan mail?"

"Reporters don't really get 'fan mail'." He told the boy. "They mostly just get death threats and lawsuits for liable."

"Oh."

M'gann patted him on the shoulder. "So your letter would be a nice change of pace for him. He might even appreciate it all the more!"

"Who might appreciate what?" The Superman raised an eyebrow.

"I'm trying to convince Conner to write a letter to Clark Kent in Metropolis." She explained. "He wants him to write another book."

"Really? Well, that's… nice of him…"

…

Conner did not write his letter to Clark Kent that evening. He was still skeptical that the man would pay any attention to him. But at the school the following day he did send the man an e-mail from computer lab.

Clark was back at the Cave drafting up an article on the emotional and psychological development of children with poor or even non-existent father figures (ironically, this article had been assigned to him by Perry and had nothing to do with Superboy), when he received the e-mail notification. Needless to say, he was a little surprised to see that the boy had actually gone through with the martian girl's plan to write to Clark Kent. He leaned back on the couch and reread the boy's message a few times, and wondered how exactly to word his reply.

Finally, Clark decided that it would be better to send a hand written reply.

He flew back to Metropolis to grab a sheet of stationary that had the Daily Planet logo at the top and said 'From the Desk of Mr. Clark Kent'. He quickly wrote out a reply explaining why he didn't write anymore, but thanking Conner for his complements and attention and ending by encouraging the boy to start writing stories of his own. When Clark was finished, he had filled two pages. He signed the letter 'CK' and mailed it from a Metropolis post office. Then he was flying back to Mt. Justice with just enough time to finish his article for Perry before the kids got home from school.

They entered the common room, apparently in the middle of an argument.

"For the last time," M'gann was saying in exasperation. "You're not calling Robin."

"I can't think of anyone else who can retract an e-mail." Was Conner's reply. "I never should have sent that in the first place. I must have sounded like a duttering idiot."

The martian girl crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. "You're not taking back that e-mail. Its good that you messaged him and you're not gonna bother Robin in Gotham just because you've got cold feet."

"Something wrong?" Superman asked innocently.

"Conner messaged Mr. Kent." M'gann explained. "And now he's freaking out."

"_I AM NOT FREAKING OUT!"_ The Superboy roared. "I just… I just don't want Mr. Kent to brush me off like…" A subtle sideways glance at Superman. "Gar! It was stupid! I never should have sent that e-mail in the first place!"

…

It was Thursday when Clark's letter to Conner finally arrived. The Superboy had blinked in awe at it, not really believing that his favorite author had actually messaged him back and in a hand written letter to, not a cold emotionless e-mail. Conner almost didn't want to rip the envelope to read it.

He intently studied the return address sticker in the top left hand corner, the hand written address that bore his name 'To: Young Mr. Conner Kent'.

"Well, are ya gonna read it, or just look at it?" Superman asked after a while.

Conner shot him a dark look and retreated into his own room with his letter, there he finally opened it, carefully so as not to damage the return address, the stamp or his own name. He pulled out two pieces of paper, also hand written as the address had been on personalized stationary.

'_Dear Mr. Kent, or perhaps I should say "Young Mr. Kent" seeing as I'm also "Mr. Kent".'_

Was that supposed to be a joke? Conner couldn't tell.

'_Firstly, please allow me to thank you whole heartedly for your e-mail. Its so rare for people in my line of work to receive praise from someone who's not also in the profession that it makes messages like yours all the sweeter for their rarity._

'_I, unfortunately, have not had the inspiration or the inclination to write any new fiction of late. Sometimes I'm actually surprised I managed to finish my last book at all. Writing fiction can sometimes be like pulling teeth, very few understand or appreciate just how difficult the craft is. I can crank out newspaper articles in time for deadline like its nobody's business, but that's because news articles are nothing more than recounting facts. Writing, real writing, takes creativity and art and I've come to realize that I'm not particularly gifted in either arena. What really kept me afloat through the three books that I did manage to publish was not so much my skill at the craft, but rather just my passion for the stories. I had a story to tell and I refused to quit until I had told it._

'_Unfortunately, I'm all out of stories now._

'_But you seem full of enough passion for both of us. Have you even given any thought to becoming a writer yourself? I'm sure you must have a story to tell, everyone does. I thank you for your flattery, but rather than looking up to me in hopes that I might drop another book in your lap, make one of your own. Express yourself and become every bit the author you think I am and maybe we'll meet one day at a symposium. Then I can shake your hand as a collogue rather than a rabid fan. _

'_Looking forward to reading,_

'_C.K.'_

Conner put the letter down and thought for a moment. He picked it back up and reread it. He set it back down again. He opened his desk drawer and pulled out an empty notebook and a pen.

…


	7. Fight!

Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

Scouting

Chapter Seven: Fight!

"Jeez, first he can't take his eyes off those books now he can't stop writing. What's with this guy lately?" Marvin asked Megan from over Conner's head. "Its like we don't even know him."

"He's… trying something new." M'gann tried to answer diplomatically.

Conner was spending yet another lunch sitting with his friends, and yet ignoring them completely. Only this time, rather than having his nose plastered to the inside of a book, he was hunched over a notebook and scribbling furiously.

"What's he even writing?" Asked Karen.

Marvin leaned over his friend's shoulder to see. "Looks like short-hand." He said in slight disappointment. "But if I'm remembering my after-school journalism class right, it looks like some sort of sci-fi story."

"Conner –writing a _story_?" Mal blinked. "Aw man, this I gotta see!"

The heavy-set jock reached a hand forward as if to snatch the notebook right out from under his friend, but Conner moved faster, pulling the book off the table and out of Mal's reach. Apparently he _had_ been paying attention. Nice multitasking.

"Its about a guy who works for a top-secret peace-keeping organization." He explained, not making a single move to lower his notebook back within grabbing range. "It takes place in a futuristic setting where North America has become Balkanized into several different states. The main character's actually a flawed genetic-copy of one of the organization's top guys and I'm trying to do that thing where authors attempt to define what makes something 'human' without actually defining it."

Marvin's eyes narrowed. "Okay, that's it! Who are you and what have you done with our friend!"

Wendy looked thoughtful. "Didn't they do that in an episode of The Pretender?"

"Donno," Mal shrugged, "but I think they came close to something like that in Stargate SG-1."

"No, guys, it was Buffy the Vampire Slayer." Marvin shook his head.

"No, you're confusing Buffy with Angle." Karen shook her head. "It was Angel that had the episode with the clone or copy or whatever. But they both had secret organizations."

"Then again, it could have been Roswell." Wendy amended. "Or the Highlander TV series… Maybe Smallville…?"

"Why don't we just go ahead and name every prime-time teen-drama ever made?" Mal suggested.

Their conversation was cut short, however, when Conner growled, "Okay, guys, I get it. You think it's a stupid idea. Great. Thanks."

He stood and left. M'gann followed him.

…

Mal came over to apologize after school, during the girl's cheerleader practice. He sat next to Conner and they made-up.

No one was really sure how the fight started. It wasn't over Conner's story, that was for sure. One moment, the two guys were fine, sitting next to one another on the bleachers, watching the girls turn their tricks and flips in those scandalously short skirts of theirs. No one else was near them, no one heard what was said. It could have been an inappropriate comment about one or the other's girlfriend, it could have been a disagreement over the football teams chances this season, really nobody knew.

All anyone was aware of was that one moment they were fine with each other and the next they were tumbling off the bleachers together, shouting with hostility. Mal landed on top Conner, though it wasn't clear if this were by simple chance or if the Superboy had intentionally manipulated their tumble so that he broke his classmate's fall. Neither would be surprising, but M'gann liked to think it was the latter.

/_'Conner! What are you doing!_'/ She demanded over a psychic thread.

He didn't respond. Mal landed a punch to Conner's face and ended up doing more damage to his own hand than he did to his friend's face. Mal snarled in pain, cupping his now injured hand in the other. Conner sat-up and (gently, very gently) head-butted Mal in the face. He fell backwards on his ass and sat their dazed. Conner likewise backed-up and tried his best to mimic Mal's dazed behavior.

Other student's swarmed around them. Conner rested his head on his knee, giving the image of one who was injured or dizzy or both, but M'gann could see that he was pressing his knee hard into his forehead, trying to give himself a bruise. It wouldn't do for him to have head butted someone and have him dazed and dizzy with a dark purple splotch on his forehead but not a mark on himself.

/_'Conner what happened?_'/ Asked M'gann. But before he could respond they were cut off by another voice, one full of authority and controlled anger.

"What's going on here!" The crowd parted to make was for Mr. Carr, their history teacher.

He knelt down to check on Mal Duncan first. He was bruised and shaken, but not permanently damaged. Mr. Carr then turned to Conner and examined him, though; the Superboy could have sworn he did so with far less concern. Then teacher stood, his hands on his hips, looking between the two boys with disappointment and annoyance written all over his face.

"Fighting on school grounds. You should know better." That 'you should know better' also seemed to be aimed more at Conner than at Mal. What was up with that? "Needless to say you're both suspended, and the principal will be calling your parents."

/_'What were you even fighting over?_'/ M'gann asked as she followed the boy's lead by Mr. Carr march up to the office.

…

Superman pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and suppressed the urge to snarl. Clark Kent did not snarl and growl, heck, Superman did usually snarl and growl. Angry guttural throat noises were more of a Batman thing. But since his clone had been dropped in his lap last summer, Clark found himself irritated and snarly more than half the time. With a heavy sigh, he entered the school's administration office and walked up to the desk.

"Hi." He said, hopping no more than the appropriate amount of annoyance seeped into his voice. "I'm here about Conner Kent."

The attendance secretary pointed him in the direction of the disciplinary councilor's office and Clark followed the direction down a short and narrow hallway that was made even narrower by aluminum folding chairs lining one wall. Two of these chairs were occupied by two boy's, each clutching an ice pack to their head's. '_How in the heck had Superboy managed to get injured?_'

And then the afore mentioned Superboy looked up, recognized him and shot to his feet as if something had bitten him. "Oh. My. _God_!"

Of course the boy would recognize him the moment he walked into the office as Clark Kent. How many times had the boy read his books over the past three days? How long had he spent staring at his back and white photo in the back of the books? Clark knew before he'd even put down the phone and left the Cave that the moment Conner saw him, his secret identity would got up in smoke.

"What?" The other boy looked up at Conner in confusion, then from Conner to Clark. "Dude, is that you're dad?"

Right, and that was another thing Clark didn't want to have to face.

Another parent exited from the disciplinary councilor's office, looking disappointed and harassed. She glared at the second boy and grabbing him by the wrist, pulled him to his feet.

"We're going home, Malcome." She said. "I'm very disappointed in you."

The woman, probably the boy's mother, dragged him out of the office. Both Clark and Conner watched them go until they were out of sight (in Conner's case), Clark watched through the building walls as the mother shoved her son into the backseat of their car and drove away. Parenting –not something Clark had ever wanted to do.

He and Conner looked at each other. But before either one of them could say anything the disciplinary councilor poked her head out of the office, spotted Clark and said, "Oh, you must be Conner's father." She stepped out to shake Clark's hand. "Wow, you're son look _just_ like you!"

"So I hear." He forced a smile through gritted teeth.

"I'm very sorry for making you come down here." She apologized for the inconvenience but stepped aside and held the door open for him to step into the office. "But I've actually been meaning to call you and Mrs. Kent about Conner sooner. I'm sorry that it took this unfortunate incident to get me to finally pick up the phone."

Clark paused as he sat in front of her desk. "'Mrs. Kent'?" He asked. "I'm not married."

"Oh, I apologize. I had thought the blond woman who first enrolled him in school was…"

Ah, that would have been Dinah. "No, she's just a friend."

"I apologize for the presumption." She claimed her eat behind the desk and pulled out a file that was marked 'Kent, Conner'. "Mr. Kent, I called you here because of the fight between your son and Mr. Duncan today, but what I'd really like to talk about is Conner's emotional needs."

He had winced at the 'your son' comment. But the allusion to his 'emotional needs' had the Man of Steel blinking in confusion. "Excuse me?"

She opened the file and started leafing through notes. "Conner seems starved for attention, usually children who don't get enough attention at home act out in disruptive ways such as today's fight. The odd thing is, today's fight is an anomalous occurrence. Usually, he's quiet and withdrawn, almost like he's afraid to seek attention though he wants it."

Clark raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Discounting today's fight, has he been causing problems?"

"Well, no." The councilor shook her head. "He's a model student, quiet in class, is always ready to answer questions, turns his homework in on time… almost to perfect, actually. Some of his teachers have expressed a concern for his home life."

"So… wait, he's a good kid, therefore something must be wrong?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all." She shook her head.

Clark then had to sit and endure a psychological profile done by an underpaid school psychologist that had no concept of what the boy's past or home life was really like. And all he could think through all of it was, '_I can't believe I'm getting blamed for this.'_

Finally, the councilor finished and let him go. Clark shook hands and bit the woman goodbye, then turning to Conner still sitting in the hall said, "Ready to go, kiddo."

The Superboy stood silently and sullenly and exited the office ahead of the Superman. Clark followed him out to the student parking lot where he had left his motorcycle. It was the only vehicle left in the lot, M'gann having already gone back to the Cave after Conner and Mal were carted off by Mr. Carr. They were far from the school buildings and no one was around to hear them speak.

"How did you get that bruise on your head?" Clark asked in honest to goodness confusion, Mal Duncan hadn't seemed like he had any meta-human abilities.

Conner looked up at him. Said nothing. Pulled his helmet over his head. Then, lifting the visor said, "I'm not speaking to you."

The boy mounted the bike and revved the engine a few times, but just when he was about to speed off back to the Cave, he found that the bike was no long resting on the asfault of the parking lot, but rather was climbing into the air. Conner looked behind him to see Clark Kent, or rather Superman, in his full hero raiment lifting the bike with Conner on it into the air.

"Cut the engine." He said. "You'll save time and gas this way."

"I don't need your help!" The boy snarled. "I'm perfectly capable of getting home on my own."

"I never said you weren't." Said the Superman. The boy snarled with frustration and turned back around. "You're mad at me."

Conner was not speaking to him.

…

It was great to have her kitchen back!

M'gann sighed with pleasure as she poured cake batter from the mixing bowl into the cake pan. Using her telekinesis so that she didn't have to go near the heat of the oven, she placed the cake pan in the middle shelf to bake. It was as she was setting the timer that the Supers came home.

Conner stomped through the common area scowling and grumbling.

"How'd the meeting with the meeting with the councilor go?" She asked.

He did not even stop and look at her as he snarled the name 'Superman' followed by a series of martian profanities that made her blush and wish she'd never taught them to him in the first place. Conner stomped to his room with enough force to shake the floor and slammed the door to his room with a resounding _swish-THUNK_ that _definitely_ broke the door.

A few moments later Superman stalked by, following the boy. "Don't stomp like that! You're shaking the Cave! _Don't you walk away from me_!"

Clark followed the boy to his room and found the room being help up by nothing more than the grace of god and one slightly dented corner of the doorframe. Yeah, that would have to be replaced. He pulled the door out of its frame with minimal effort and leaned it against the opposite wall. He stood in the boy's doorway, glaring at him.

"Look, kiddo, you might be mad at me, but I'm furious with you." He said this with a kind of deadly calm and quiet voice he'd been learning from Bruce. "What in the name of Rao's red corona possessed you to get in a fight with a normal boy! Do you realize you could have killed him? You can bench-press sedans, boy, what chance does a normal kid have against you!"

"I didn't start it!" Conner snarled.

"I don't care who started it." Clark snarled back. "You can't allow yourself to be drawn into a confrontation. You have to hold yourself to a high standard. You can't just-"

"Oh, _shut-up_!" The boy groaned, cutting the Boy Scout off, mid-sanctimonious speech. "Just… just _stop_. You don't get to lecture me. I asked you to mentor me months ago last summer and you turned me down. You had your chance. You don't get to turn your back on me one moment and then barge in here and lecture me the next. _And_, just so you know, I actually _saved_ Mal from breaking his neck when we fell from the bleachers."

Clark paused and blinked at the boy.

"Now, if you think I need to be yelled at for saving my idiot friend from a fall, then call Batman or Black Canary and have someone who _actually is_ one of my mentors lecture me. But _you_, you have no right. So, _back-off_!"

Clark stared at the boy. He missed one… two… three beats before saying. "Batman's going to hear about this. I don't know what possessed him to send you to school with normal people, but you obviously don't belong there." He turned to leave, paused, turned back. "Something's bothering and I have to know, _how did you get that bruise on your forehead_?"

"Get out!"

…

It was much later in the evening when Conner and M'gann had retired to bed that she finally asked, "What were you and Mal fighting about, anyway? I thought you two were friends."

"It was the stupidest thing." He shook his head. "We were arguing over who was the 'best' superhero in the Justice League. I said Canary was the best with Batman as a close second, and he said I was crazy that Superman was the best, then I called Superman an obnoxious and overbearing Boy Scout with to much power for his own good, and Mal said I had no idea what the hell I was talking about; before I knew it, in the middle of saying 'no you' he just slugged me. I guess people's favorite superheroes are serious business."

…


	8. Published

Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

Scouting

Chapter Eight: Published

It was finally Saturday, glorious, wonderful Saturday! It was the best day of the week, it was the day they would finally get rid of Superman as their den mother and get a new one. Robin had brought the card game Munchkin with him again and the kids, having passionately refused to go on another hike with the Boy Scout, sat down to play a game.

"And now I have to discard to the lowest level player." Conner glared at the cards in his hand, deciding which to discard. He passed three cards to Robin.

He looked at them. "Really, Supey? Wow. Okay. I Join a Super-Team and go up a level and apparently wear Underwear on the Outside and go up another level." He discarded the two Go-Up a Level cards. "And I'm gonna replace my Cape Town with the Narrow S-Cape and then sell for another level. I'm now able to put down this Eye Beams power I've been hanging on to for the past two round and I've now got a Mild-Mannered Disguise."

He looked down at the cards he had in play. '_Wow, I'm totally Superman_.'

Everyone else groaned. "Damn it! Now he's level nine and over-powered. This is exactly what happened last time. Why'd you do that, Supey?"

"And now its his turn too…" M'gann sighed.

"That's right." The Boy Wonder grinned. "And I'm kicking down a Door!" He reached to the pile of Door cards and flipped the top most card face-up. "Damn it!"

Level 17 Foot

"Okay, this is for the winning level, everyone." Wally turned to the cards in his hand to find some way to prevent the Goddamn Robin from reaching level ten and winning the game (for a second week in a row).

"Relax. I got this." Conner still had a full hand of five cards. "The Foot, apparently, has a Better Costume Than Yours, pulse ten to level of monster." Robin was now, no longer fighting a level seventeen monster, but a level twenty-seven one. "And now, I use the Duplo-Ray to make two level twenty-seven Feet," he threw down another card, "and then, just for shits and giggles, I'm gonna Wandering Monster in the Level 20 Big Ol' Planet Eater Guy."

And with that, Conner's hand was empty and Robin was now fighting a force with the collective power level of seventy-four.

"That was mean, Supey."

Conner shrugged. "What can I say? I'm the clone of one of the biggest super-dicks on planet Earth."

"Okay, seriously, what the hell happened this past week?" Asked Artemis. "Yeah, Superman's an obnoxious and annoying Boy Scout, but don't you think you're being a little harsh?"

"No, I don't."

…

"He had every right to tell you to back off." Bruce was saying, though he wasn't sure if his kryptonian comrade was even listening. As the Batman was more than well aware, kryptonians were very hard headed. Clark was probably to busy brooding to be bothered to listen. "You're not his mentor Clark, and by your own insistence, neither are you his father, or anyone else who has authority over him."

The Superman opened his mouth as if to say something but though better of it and closed it again.

"I will be speaking to the boy." The Dark Knight assured him. "But don't think you're completely in the right here. As far as I'm concerned, you both acted poorly."

"Can I go now?" Clark finally asked. "My term as den mother is up and I wanna go home. I never thought I'd miss Luthor this much, but compared to that… _boy.._."

"No, you can't go." Bruce placed one hand on his hip in irritation. "There's still one more thing I need to do before you can go. Wait here."

The Dark Knight exited the briefing room where he and the Superman had been talking and made his way to the common area where the kids were playing cards. The Team all looked up when he entered, expecting an announcement of who their new den mother would be. But instead, the Batman fixed his stare on the Superboy and said, "Conner, we need to talk."

The genomorph had long since resigned himself to some sort of disciplinary action from the Batman and so it was with a heavy head that he pushed his chair back from the table and followed the Dark Knight out of the common room. As they passed, Bruce couldn't help but notice three novels by author Clark Kent and one spiral bound notebook in the garbage. He had expected the books, the notebook was new. He made a mental note to ask about it later.

Conner followed Batman into a briefing room to find Superman waiting there, looking impatient and harassed.

"What's _he_ doing here?" Both kryptonian's choired in eerily identical tones of loathing.

Without warning or a word of explanation, the Batman reached out, catching both men off guard and managed to knock their heads together.

"Ow!" Both men drew back with identical exclamations of pain. "What was that for."

Damn, it was creepy when they spoke at the same time.

"Someone needed to bang your heads together." Bruce crossed his arms over his chest. "Superman, now you may go."

And he was gone. His exit causing an air vacuum that tousled Conner's hair and sent the Batman's cape to swooshing.

"Why don't you just call him 'Clark'?" The boy snarled. "That is his name, isn't it? Clark Kent, Daily Planet reporter and novelist from Kansas. I didn't know there was a Kansas, Krypton too! Exactly how much of his biography is true? I bet he's never even been to Kansas. I bet he's not even a reporter."

To all of this the Batman said nothing. Let the boy think whatever he liked.

Instead, Bruce delivered a lecture on responsibility and how he couldn't afford to allow himself to get into petty fights with normal kids. That he could seriously hurt someone if he miscalculated a blow and that even if he didn't hurt anyone else, he risked exposing himself when people noticed that he was unharmed.

To that Conner was quick to say that he did think of that and gave himself a couple visible buises after the fight to allay suspicion.

It was after that statement that the Batman had offered a small half-smiled and rubbed a thumb over Conner's unblemished forehead, the bruise he'd given himself having already healed thanks to his kryptonian heritage. "I know. Superman was actually quite disturbed to see it. I think you might actually have scared him."

To that, Conner had said nothing.

Their conversation done, the boy was excused and rejoined his Team. Their new den mother for the week was Hawkman and, as with most of the other den mothers, he was already playing least-in-sight. Everything looked to be returning to some semblance of normal.

While th kids were distracted, Bruce reached into the trash and pulled out the mystery notebook. Upon opening it, a two-page hand written letter fell out from between the pages of what looked like a science fiction story written in short hand. Bruce read the letter then skimmed the story, then got an idea.

…

"What's this?" Clark pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as Jimmy placed a thin FedEx package next to his keyboard.

"Donno." The photographer shrugged. "A courier just dropped it off for you. Is it for a story?"

"I'm not really working on anything at the moment." The mild-mannered reporter tore the seal on the envelope in confusion. He pulled out a simple spiral bound notebook and a note. Recognizing the notebook as one belonging to his clone, Clark shoved it and the note back into the FedEx envelope and stood. "Jimmy, I just remembered something. I gotta go."

He brushed past the photographer, the package under his arm. He was safely barricaded in his own apartment when he finally pulled it back out again. As it turned out, Clark needn't have worried. The note that went along with the notebook was in Bruce's hand writing and the Batman would never write anything incriminating or damaging to his colleague's identity. The note simply said: '_Read this._'

And so, Clark did.

It was a science fiction piece about a boy whom was a clone of a very powerful member of an organization that maintained general peace and moderate prosperity for a Balkanized future version of the world. The story itself was a relatively simple one and was devoid of any sub-plots, the boy was no Tolkien. But it was rather telling and Clark found himself gaining insights into the boy that he hadn't even suspected after living a week with him.

…

Months passed and Superman never came up in the den mother rotation again. Nobody could tell whether this was by extreme coincidence or if Batman were manipulating the lottery to prevent Clark from drawing the short straw. Either way, Conner did not give a passing though to the Man of Steel until he found a curious package wrapped in brown paper resting innocently on his well made and un-slept in bed.

Curiously, he ripped the paper to reveal a book. A book with his own name proclaiming him as the author. He pulled the story the rest of the was from its brown paper, the title wasn't familiar, but after leafing through the pages there was no mistaking it. The story was his. But the most shocking bit was not that he was suddenly become a published author without his knowledge, but rather the Forward that had been written for it and who it had been written by.

…

"What the hell is this?"

Clark looked up, his eyes widening to surprise to see his clone standing in front of his desk in the bullpin of the Daily Planet, arms crossed over his chest, a scowl on his face.

"How did you get in here?"

"Roof access door. Answer the question."

Clark looked down at the book Conner had slid towards him. "Well, kiddo, that is a collection of paper pages marked with toner and bound with cardboard and glue in what is commonly referred to as a book."

The boy was not amused.

Clark thought it was rather funny.

"It's a peace offering." He slid the book back to the boy.

"Did Batman put you up to this?"

"He made me read it." The Superman confessed. "But it was my idea to have it published."

The boy continued to glare.

"Did you read the forward?"

He had.

Clark waited for him to say something.

All around them the chaos of the bullpin raged.

Finally the boy said, "You can be very nice on paper."

The boy took his book, turned and left.

Clark sighed. He really wasn't good with that boy. But he had taken the book instead of leaving it with Clark. That meant something… right?

…

END

(A/N: Overall, I'd say this was not my best work. But I hope you enjoyed it.)


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